


But I See Your True Colors Shining Through

by mochajelled



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blindness, Bonding over talking shit about J.J., Color Blindness, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, Slow-ish burn, Thanks to this I found out that irl exist literal overprized wooden boxes named "man crates", Victuuri are Yuri's parents, tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 00:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochajelled/pseuds/mochajelled
Summary: Everyone has a predetermined soulmate, but they can be easy to miss. Only when you finally get to know them you realize that you'd pick them even without the colors.And how Otabek had this realization while training on St. Petersburg after an unexpected meeting.





	1. Breaking the Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AU_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AU_Queen/gifts).



> I want to thank you people who made this possible, to the artist, for worrying and giving me inspiration.  
> For my beta, because you're awesome and seriously I loved how you slayed me with corrections.  
> And for the organizers of the reverse bag, without you nothing of this woul've been possible. :)

The coffee shop was packed but they managed to find a table, Mila sat and Otabek sat across from her. They met there as they usually did, every Wednesday since they started dating, both of their schedules were hectic so this was one of the few chances they had to spend some quality time together.  
  
She was wearing a calm expression, her eyes unwavering on his, but he could see her fidgeting with the cup in her hands. Otabek knew what was coming, they'd been together for almost half a year but they knew each other for much longer, and he wasn't a fool, he had seen the new glimmer in her eyes.  
  
“Honestly, I have now idea how should I say this," she smiled nervously, unable to break eye contact. "But I'm breaking up with you." She pushed the words out of her mouth.  
  
"I know." He could see that this moment was the end, he had psyched up with the prospect since they agreed to have a relationship. Hearing her though, made a chill run down his spine. It was difficult and neither of them wanted to say it, but it had to be said.  
  
Mila couldn't fake a smile, the look in her eyes was a worried one tinted with slight helplessness. There was no regret in it and Otabek was glad for her, she didn't have to feel wrong for something so good. He cared for her deeply, he didn't quite 'love her' in a romantic way but they shared a bond and trust that made titles irrelevant. He smiled sincerely, "What is it like?"  
  
Her shoulders relaxed and she sighed in relief, she took a few moments and despite her remaining frown, she answered. "It is wonderful Beka, she's wonderful, it's everything I imagined it would be and more."  
  
He laughed fondly. "You sound so cheesy, are you really Mila?"  
  
"Oh shut up, you're the sap here." She smiled more openly and giggled too. The tension had been slightly relieved but there was still something oppressing his chest. “You’ll know eventually, I’m sure your soulmate is out there but you’ve been too oblivious to find them.”  
  
“Sure, I'll wait for that strike of lightning.” This wasn't a topic he was particularly comfortable with, at least referring to him. “But enough about my still non-existent fated encounter. I can almost hear your internal screaming so come at me. You say her name is…”

“Sara!” Mila replied excitedly before he could finish. “I met her at the hotel I was staying at for last week’s competition. She was staying there too, and I saw her in the reception. I didn't notice at first…” She sighed frustrated. “I could've missed her Beka! If she hadn't noticed me I wouldn't have met her.”

“Oh, that does sound like something you'd do.” Otabek touched his chin to simulate concentration. “Finding something awesome, completely ignoring it and probably ruining the moment, but somehow being lucky enough to conveniently pull it out? It fits.” He met her utterly unamused face and understood this was not the best time to joke. “And the colors? Aren't you supposed to see them or something?”

“Bingo, ‘or something’ describes it perfectly,” Mila said. “They always tell you ‘oh you'll know when it happens’ but it's a lie, I had no idea that was my cue. There was certainly something different, but I couldn’t imagine what.”

“That's why you couldn't figure it out.”

“Well, obviously. I wasn't prepared for it or anything, same for her.” She pouted as if thinking hard enough could reveal the secrets of the universe. “I actually had my doubts you know? She came to me and touched my shoulder from behind and just said ‘your hair’.” Her uneasiness was growing but simply only because of the possibilities. “I took out my phone and, damn! My hair is _red_ , it's weird… I mean, like an apple? Blood? I don't know how to explain it.”

“Dude, I know red, don't worry.” At least in theory, like math formulas or names of extinct animals, even if he wasn’t able to see them he has an idea of it. The sky is blue, the grass is green, concepts learned since childhood that held no real meaning but that he still possessed a general knowledge about them. “So you saw your freaky hair, then what? Maybe she was able to see them since before but hadn't noticed until she saw you.”

“I thought so too but here comes the thing, I hardly saw a hint of red in my hair but then I looked at her eyes,” A small gasp escaped her throat. “And I saw it, they were bright and lovely and I couldn't stop staring at them.” She smiled with the fondness of the memory. “The colors became more vibrant and I learned her eyes are purple, or violet, but that's beside the point.”

“So then you knew, the colors.”

“Yes, but it wasn't only because of the colors, after our weird meeting we went outside and we talked,” He was talking about the colors but yeah this is more interesting. “We talked, and laughed, and smiled and I met her brother and he was creepy but somehow relieved that I was a girl? Anyway, she's best girl and, ugh!” She let out a frustrated grunt, again. “I just met her but I already think of her all of the time. It's too soon to call it love…”

“But with time...”

“She lives in Italy."

“Oh, you can still text each other though.”

Now she did laugh, at least if her loud snort counted as one. “Believe me we're doing it. But, she's older, what if she wants something else? We're ‘bounded by destiny’ but that means barely anything nowadays.”

“So? Win her affection, get to know each other, you'll know if she's really the love of your life.”

“You'll know…” She looked at him more serious, almost defiant. “You are the one who'll know, you can talk about what should I do, but first you should think about what you're going to do because I know you want to find them. What if they already found someone other than you?”

He hardened his expression, that hadn't been a nice comment. “I was only trying to help.”

“I am only trying to help.”

She did, he was aware of that, but she had touched a soft spot with unnerving accuracy. Of course she had, she knew him as well as he knew her.

Against his own moral code, he did feel a bit jealous, he could admit that but only to himself. Thankfully the feeling was almost gone at the end of the afternoon, mostly because he was tired, in the good sense, sort of. He had heard everything and a little more about Mila's soulmate. His ears were ringing with all the "Sara is so perfect" ramble that followed that he could barely remember the rest of the conversation. 

Still, one thing stood out for him about the myth and grand mystery about soulmates and colors. Mila was lucky that Sara saw her, she admitted that she didn't notice at first but what if neither had? He hadn't been on alert 24/7 but at least he knew he still hadn’t crossed with his own soulmate, but he would, at least he hoped he would.

_I've set up a phone background with two colors, they have the same saturation so you won't notice but once you find your soulmate you'll see the difference. If you get a headache, get overwhelmed or if you're smarter than me and actually identify colors then look at this, don't risk your opportunity._

Mila had said it as if it was easy but naturally it wouldn't be, if he wanted to find his soulmate he had to work for it, he had to earn it. There was still a 50% chance that he would be seen first and he hoped that would be the case. For now, he had to wait and keep his eyes open, since he didn't know if his soulmate would.

 

* * *

 

A notification woke him up, he groaned and reluctantly peeled his eyelids open just to see that it was still dark. He didn’t want to wake up yet but at least he could look at the time. Surprisingly it wouldn’t be long before his alarm went off, but he would’ve thanked five more minutes of sweet slumber.

He looked at his notifications, most of them were of Mila’s night blogging trip. He only had an account because of her, and this certainly didn’t help his raging hatred towards social networks. Anyways, she was on her way to Rome, how rare, but she did mention she was planning to propose to Sara this time. Good for them, he wished they’d be happy, even if he thought that it was too soon after only knowing each other for two years or so.

There was no way he would be able to return to sleep now, no reason to fuss over it, this was going to be a busy day, especially since he had barely arrived in his hotel in Saint Petersburg last night and had no idea on where his destination was located.

After a decently filling breakfast, Otabek took the bus his phone told him would leave him nearest to Love & Life, the ice rink owned by the skating legends Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov. Once there he would meet the pair and start his training under them. For how long? That was yet to be seen, they were known for taking lots of apprentices but most who only stayed with them a couple of months, a year at most. He wasn't really thinking about the length of the agreement, his utmost priority was to focus on learning from them as much as he could.

Upon arriving at the establishment the first thing he could think about was that it was huge; also, to it was attached a considerably large parking lot with several cars, indication that it was open to the public along with being used for private practice.

He registered at the front desk and headed to the rink, or rinks, actually. There were two areas, from the right one came more generic sounds: chatter, laughter, and occasional bumps against a wall. From the left side there was only soft music and the sound of sharp blades against ice; between both areas, a trophy cabinet was being used as a divider.

Deciding that staying put was the best course of action he waited for a couple of minutes before a familiar face came to greet him. Familiar in a vague sense, even if they had been in contact this was their first meeting face to face.

The former skater, who was somewhere in his forties, came to greet him with a smile. “Otabek Altin, I'm glad you could find your way here without trouble. Victor Nikiforov, it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He stretched his hand out and Otabek met it with a firm shake.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Nikiforov. I deeply thank you for receiving me and I will do my best to not waste your teachings.”

“Oh my, I appreciate your words but don't worry about being formal now, it’s time to show off all your hard work from last season,” Victor explained carefree as he turned around and started moving, Otabek following him closely from behind. “Also, you can call me Victor.”

“No.”

The harsh response made Victor laugh. “I get it, I respect your professionalism young man.” Who could blame him? He wouldn't be able to talk to an authority like Nikiforov with that degree of closeness, less within five minutes of meeting him.

They walked through the left corridor, across a pair of rinks and to what looked like a locker room. “We'll give you a proper tour later but for now this will do. To the left we have the public rink; look! There’s Yuuri!” They both turned their heads and saw only a glimpse of the other former skater, he was surprised at the unexpected call but was able to look at them and wave briefly.

Victor moved on trying to act as if nothing had happened but Otabek was able to see the traces of a love struck face. “Where was I? Oh, sure, as I was saying, here we have the training rinks. The furthest one is being used currently so you'll be practicing on the other. The cafeteria and offices are on the floor above. Oh! The stairs are behind the trophy cabinet by the way.” They arrived and Victor continued pointing at things as if he was giving an airplane security demonstration. “The showers are over there, the lockers on the back. You can use any, they don't have a lock.”

Once he seemed satisfied Victor left Otabek next to a bench, the latter understood that this was the end of the impromptu tour. “I think that's all for now, we’ll close to the public in half an hour but you can start warming up. My husband will come then, I'll take a little more time since I've got some paperwork to finish.” With that, he left, never dropping the cheerful aura that seemed natural to him.

Otabek did as he was told, he changed and left his stuff on the locker that had the same numbers as his age, he wouldn’t forget where he left them like that, hopefully. Outside and ready to start his warmup he could notice now distinctly that the volume of the other trainee’s music was significantly high, but at least it was not to the point where it was unbearable.

Stretches and  light cardio were the best exercises to make his blood pump faster, and he could match his tempo with the tune’s. He didn’t know Nikiforov’s and Katsuki’s style in training, but knowing how their choreographies were all about flowing with the music, this could turn out to be quite useful.

After an adequate amount of time had passed, the current melody came to an end. Following it was also a classical music piece, though not one that featured an orchestra. This was heavy on piano too, yet that previous one sounded like it could’ve easily fitted in a ballet performance.

The piece started with an apparent slower tempo, hidden well by all the undertones, tricky when trying to follow it. Otabek found himself ready to move to the ice, where he would continue with balance and strength exercises. The music picked up with a bass accompaniment.

Even though he knew that he had to stay focused on his warmups he couldn’t stop from throwing a glance at the other rink, curious about what the other skater was doing. He had heard a jump a few seconds ago, still, the whole nature of their training was a mystery. One soon to be solved, the skater did a backward move and then landed a triple salchow. So he was practicing his choreography, interesting.

Next a camel spin, and Otabek realized he was peeking a little more than he originally intended, but he ignored the voice in the back of his mind that told him to focus on his own training. The voice was right most of the times, although this time he was going to ignore it. After all, the performance of the other man was astonishing, he possessed such a control that made it seem like he was floating. His choreography continued with a slower pace in the music, including a spread eagle that was the most remarkable. Afterwards jumps, lots of them, and all of a high difficulty that he displayed with fluidity and ease.

The step sequence came, keeping Otabek’s attention. Honestly, he wanted to watch it to its end, so he decided it would be better to stand still and avoid an injury. Now he directed all his attention to the routine and noticed the preparation for a jump; the skater didn’t slow as much as before, so it stood out that he was going to do a more difficult one.

The frozen man saw the skates of the other rise  and now he honestly couldn’t tell if the other was actually flying, the takeoff of that flip had been so smooth he couldn’t pinpoint the moment the blades had left the ice. The landing wasn’t so gentle, as the man fell face flat on the ice, shoulder flat would be better said, and Otabek was brought out of trance by a loud profanity shouted in frustration. He stood up regardless and did another spin, the music slowed one last time as the man finished with a hand extended towards Otabek. He suddenly felt ashamed for watching and let his eyes drift to the side.

Only then he came to the realization that that was the end position and that it most probably had nothing to do with him. He returned his gaze to see the skater, this one still held the same position, his closed eyes and panting indicating the amount of the intense effort. In a moment or two, he snapped, skating back to the center of the rink and taking an initial position for a fresh start.

The same piece started once again, Otabek saw what the beginning of the routine looked like, but decided that it was enough, he hadn’t come to watch others, he came to train, and he would have to show the results of that.

He had cooled down some in the couple of minutes the song had lasted but with a few more exercises he was good to go. He lasted a couple of replays of the same song until someone entered the area but he ignored them in favor of recovering some of the lost time. The person stood at the exit of his rink and waved at him to catch his attention. Otabek looked up and saw it was Yuuri Katsuki, he halted his current moves and skated towards him.

“Otabek! Victor already gave you a brief introduction but I wanted to come myself as soon as possible and meet you properly.” Yuuri also had the trademark Katsuki-Nikiforov smile, obviously different from his husband’s one. Victor’s was more energetic and confident, Yuuri’s, in contrast, was more reserved, but somehow it was warm.

“Yes, again, I wanted to thank you personally for the welcome and the attention. I hope we can work well together.” Otabek was as formal as always, at least it seemed like Yuuri valued it.

“I hope so too,” He tilted his head slightly forward and continued on a more serious tone. “I see you’ve been warming up so I’m glad I came at the right time. We have the music of your routines from last season, the ones you sent to us.We’ll begin once you’re ready so please,” Yuuri clapped his hands and then signaled the center of the rink. “First, show me your short program.” It was more an order than a suggestion and Otabek willingly obliged.

He positioned himself and signaled that he was ready, the music started and his muscles moved perfectly in time. He had the routine engraved in his muscles and memory, he only had to worry about the presentation. In all fairness it was a good program, it had been able to grant him silver on the Grand Prix and gold on the Four Continents. But he recognized he still lacked something, even at his twenty-year mark he was yet to win a gold at any World competition; that was the reason why he came here.

He finished it and pulled to the side, he needed a couple of minutes to breathe and recover. He wasn’t a stamina fiend or anything similar. He stretched some to let his body prepare fresh for the next one. Both routines were strong and precise, inspiring in him a determination that poured from his every pore, with every jump, with every spin.

When both routines were over he returned to Katsuki, who assessed him with an analyzing gaze in silence before giving out his verdict. Yuuri stated it was good, really good, his flow and strength were remarkable, especially regarding his jumps; but there were flaws too, and for future reference, he suggested that it would be more interesting if he experimented with a greater variety of moves in his programs. For now, he focused more in corrections, which Otabek would practice in the next few hours. The coach left him and went to the other rink, calling out the other skater, most likely also giving him instructions.

His solo practice continued, he was able to put into practice what Yuuri mentioned, and about an hour later Victor came to supervise. He entered the rink with his skates and asked to see Otabek’s routine too, Victor moved around and pointed things out at every moment that should be improved. He had a more interactive way of teaching and it was effective, with all the years of practice along with those as a coach, his technique actually enabled a more fluid communication between them.

Eventually, he also left, leaving Otabek to continue polishing his programs. This was only practice after all, after both of the coaches had seen his response and his adaptability to their comments, they could begin working on something new.

After many long, however, fruitful hours later Victor returned, this time he didn’t ask to see him skate. On the contrary, it was late and they were soon to close, so he suggested Otabek to start to cool down. Drenching in sweat he engaged in some speed exercises and flexibility stretches to loose the knots that had formed in his muscles.

As he headed to the showers Victor intercepted him again. “Otabek, you have been doing a great work today! Now that practice is over, join us for dinner, we want to welcome you to the family.”

“I’m flattered, but would that be okay? You don’t have to worry sir, my hotel is not far from here and I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you in any way.”

“Please, I insist, we’ve already planned a dinner for our guest of honor.” Nice words to say that there was no way out of this one. If the overly sympathetic tone wasn’t a clue, Nikiforov’s unsettling smile helped greatly.

“Then… I thank you for the invitation.” Otabek knew a lost battle when he saw one, so he would use this opportunity to leave a good impression. “Would you send me the location so I can head up as soon as possible?”

“Do you have a car or some sort of transportation?”

“Not really, I haven’t picked up my motorcycle from the airport but I’ll use the public transit system, it won’t be a problem.”

“Nonsense, wait on the entrance for just a bit, Yuuri and I will be finished soon and Yurio is also almost done. There’s more than enough space on the car so we can bring you home.” There was still no point in arguing, so Otabek just thanked him again.

Once he was showered and dressed in his casual clothes Otabek returned to the main area, there were benches so planned to seat until the others arrived, Yuuri, Victor, and Yurio. Victor mentioned the unknown name and he was pretty sure the older man was talking about the other skater. Aside from the routine that had him completely dumbfounded he hadn’t really paid him attention. Good, that meant distractions wouldn’t be a problem then.

He sat down for a couple of minutes, but eventually opted to look at the trophies displayed, he was so tired that if he continued to stay in a single position there was a risk that he’d fall asleep.

From far away he could see the numerous awards, cups, medals. Upon a closer look, it could be appreciated that almost all of them were of first and second places, Nikiforov, Katsuki, Katsuki, Nikiforov. They ranged from World Cups to Grand Prix and even the Olympics. Any competition you could name, they probably had a medal for it. Talk about a power couple…

There was only one that stood oddly against the rest, for the Special Olympics Junior category, and it was apparently awarded to Yuri Plisetsky, perhaps ‘Yurio’s’ real name. There was only one trophy and it dated from a couple of years ago, but that couldn’t have been his only competition, from what Otabek had seen today he was a top tier athlete.

Regardless, he wouldn’t question it, it had nothing to do with him after all. He continued observing the trophy and thought it suited Yuri. It even reminded him of Yuri’s hair, truly it was a good match.

Why did it remind him of Plisetsky’s hair? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something ringing a bell.

Since a couple of years ago he was used to picking up his phone whenever he felt slightly confused or unnerved, now he did it almost automatically. He unlocked his phone and instead of seeing his usual plain wallpaper there was the shape of a bear in it.

So… oh…

Maybe that was _it_.

He went to Instagram and typed the only username he knew by memory, and swiped quickly the photos until he found the same one he had been looking at in the morning. Even though the composition was clearly different, he would recognize that face anywhere. But now he knew what she meant, her hair was certainly peculiar. He glanced at his own outfit and noticed her hair looked similar to his shoes. Red, they were red…

The sky wasn’t visible but he knew that once outside he would see it and it would be blue.

Suddenly everything sank in and he had to return to seat, for he feared he would fall down. His head began spinning, more because of the sudden realization and less because of the fact that he could he colors.

_Since when?_

He tried to look back through his memories, but he was too agitated to be able to think about it. Focus, close your eyes, breathe and repeat.

In the morning, he had seen his shoes and they had looked as always, he would have to check outside to remember clearly but he wouldn’t tell there was a difference with what he’d always know from other places.

It had to be more recent, Yuri’s trophy, Yuri’s hair, that was what made him realize so there had to be a clue within those two. He remembered he gave a glance to the trophies when he first entered with Victor and they all looked the same, now that he observed them carefully he could see a clear difference. The first prizes were most similar to Yuri’s hair color, the second places looked the same as before so that must've been their original color. No offense but he was relieved that Nikiforov wasn't the one who made him see colors.

If he closed the options there could be only two candidates, Yuuri Katsuki and Yuuri Plisetsky. He hoped it wasn’t the former, or he wouldn’t be able to continue training here.

In his despair he was able to hear Victor’s voice, probably talking to employees but it was getting gradually closer. An idea sparked in his head, Victor, he would be the answer to it all. Otabek remembered their first meeting, the handshake, his forehead... But that was a stretch, he just needed to remember clearly his hair color. He concentrated and the memory popped up immediately, thankfully. He walked with Victor and only saw a glimpse of Yuuri, then continued to the lockers and then he saw Plisetsky’s choreography.

He remembered the bad jokes at the entrance of the bathrooms, he recalled the exact shape of Victor’s hair, and it was the color of those second place medals so that meant…

“Otabek! We’re almost good to go, we only have to wait for my boys to come over.”

“Huh?”

“What?” No! That wasn’t what he meant.

“Sorry, I was, clearing my throat.” Victor seemed to fall for it, how cheap. He had to look to another side because of the shame, he had talked back to Victor that way because he couldn’t keep his internal screaming, internal enough.

No way, was it a joke? Victor’s hair was actually that color naturally? Great, genius plan failed. He would use any other color reference but the place was mostly monochromatic, and he hadn’t pay much attention to his surroundings for that matter.

New voices appeared, Yuuri’s calm one together with another one that was much louder. Victor forgot the incident from a second ago and hurried over to the owners of the voices. “I’ll go see if I can help with something, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Otabek stood up once again with recovered balance and approached the cabinet once again. Out of curiosity and having nothing else to do he took out his phone and googled: “What’s the color of gold?” A little bit of knowledge wouldn’t hurt.

Except when it hurt his pride; the answer was 'gold/golden'. Bravo Otabek, he was a lost case at this point.

“I won’t do Agape, I’ll skate Eros.”

“Yurio, we’ve talked about this.” Even if he hadn’t known the voice for long, he couldn't imagine it could sound that tired.

“I’ve been saying the same thing, I don’t know why we still have this argument if you know I won’t change my mind.”

“Fair point, hey Yuuri what if we leave him under the waterfall?”

Otabek looked at the three people approaching, the golden haired man in the middle almost as tall as Nikiforov.

“We won’t leave him in the waterfall Vitya, we’ve also talked about that.”

“Why not? It would be an important learning experience.”

“You know why not.”

“Shut up! Stop worrying about me, I’m blind, not helpless.” That made the three of them close their mouths forcibly and remain in an uncomfortable silence.

Otabek looked at the stranger closely, his walking was careless though graceful, completely in balance with the white cane’s support. He was tall and composed but from what he had heard he also had a barking mouth. He stopped once they got closer and frowned towards Otabek’s general direction.

“What are you looking at?”

“You don’t even know if he’s looking at you.”

“I don’t need to, he was also staring at me during practice. Thought I wouldn’t hear you moving closer from the other rink? Fool.” That still didn’t mean that Otabek was staring, even if he was. Yuri and his coaches walked past him heading to the exit.

Otabek chose not to answer back and instead recalled, yes, he had been looking intently at Plisetsky’s private practice but that was only because he was amazed at the level of mastery he had displayed on the ice. This new information meant that he had done it all without being able to see. Otabek was left bewildered at the discovery; if he respected his skill before, now he had to add a good dose of admiration to it.

Inside the car was significantly quieter, the soft murmur of the engine, the married couple’s domestic conversation, and the sweet nothings from the radio were the only sounds he could identify. They weren’t bothersome at all, the whole setting was emanating a peacefulness and warmness he hadn’t felt in some time, much less coming from a skating-related environment.

“Yurio,” Said Victor with a slight raise in his volume. “We’ll be having Borsch for dinner, do you want it veggie or meaty?”

“Meaty, if you could.” Otabek looked at Yuri who was resting his head on the window. “And my name’s not Yurio.”

“I thought he had already gone through that phase.” Whispered Victor to his husband.

“I though your baldness was a phase.”

“Yuuri! Tell him something.” Replied Victor with crocodile tears, apparently hurt by the honest comment.

“Yurio, don’t be like that, you know that’s a sensitive subject for him.” Said Yuuri seemingly taking pity on Victor. “Besides, if you make him stress about that his hair will only fall quicker.”

“Yuuri!!” Now it really did seem like the grown man was on the verge of tears. Despite this, the snarky duo laughed. At least Yuuri openly laughed, Otabek saw that Yuri was failing in suppressing a smirk.

They arrived at the Katsuki-Nikiforov household soon after. As they took out their respective bags and equipment, Otabek asked where he could leave his while he was there. Yuuri told him the entrance door was okay, and also asked him to take his shoes off at the entrance.

“Make yourself at home.” He heard, however, he couldn’t identify who told him that since the noise Yuri made while bursting inside dulled any other sound. It had been a ruckus, in ten seconds top Yuri had thrown his shoes, his cane, and then strode upstairs. Shortly followed a loud door slam to perfectly finish the hurricane that had just happened. 

“You can wait at the living room.” Offered Yuuri, completely unaffected by the sudden flurry of action.

Yuuri told him where to head and asked him that if he took something he should return it to where it was; Yuri was able to move around freely in the house because he had it completely mapped out.

Once in the living room he felt weird, it would’ve been awkward to turn the TV on after he just met the owners of the house who weren’t even present. Sitting on the couch gazing at the void was tempting but that would only show his discomfort. He looked to a side and saw shelf, with more trophies to add to the ice rink collection. He looked closer and chose to start from the furthest left and go on.

The first thing that he saw was a Grand Prix Final gold medal, Yuuri’s. Next to it a photo with a younger Victor and Yuuri wearing tuxes surrounded by people and flowers, probably their wedding day.

He moved a step to the right and saw them again, slightly older but not much, carrying a baby between them. It looked more like a candid photo since there was an excited big fluffy dog beneath trying to get to the kid. Afterwards there was one with an infant about four or five years old, with golden hair and looking to a side of the camera, like the common studio photographs for kids. Otabek took out his phone and looked on the internet a color list, he discovered the kid’s eyes were green.

He couldn’t contain a smile on the next one, it was clearly Yuri on a frozen lake, using little skates on his little feet and being held from one hand by Yuuri and from the other by Victor. The next pic was even better, now Yuri was trying to skate alone, trying and failing, since the photo showed him face flat on the ice. He remembered the routine from earlier and Yuri’s single fall, comparing that one to this one there were more differences than the ones he could point out, but somehow, the same essence remained.

Following that one there was one with an older version of the blond sitting on the lap of an old man, the man wasn’t Santa but with the look on Yuri’s face, it might as well have been Christmas. He had his eyes closed, touching the face of the man with his still child hands.

After that there were pictures that you’d expect more of from an athlete’s family, there were trophies corresponding to each podium photograph, in the early ones there was an equal number of silvers and golds but moving a little further to more recent years the amount of gold was overwhelming. The last photo dated to a year before the Special Olympics trophy on the ice rink.

Otabek still was unsure on how to classify Plisetsky’s relationship with the former skaters but he could see that they had known each other for years. And that they shared a very close bond, that much was clear.

Having some more time to kill he finally sat on a couch and took out his phone. He messaged Mila asking how was her trip going, by now she should’ve already dropped the bomb. He superficially talked about how he was doing in Saint Petersburg, briefly trying to cover everything save his ‘colorful findings’.

He was summoned to the kitchen and given the instruction to call Yuri for dinner. Otabek climbed the stairs and easily identified to which room he was supposed to go, the clue was finding where the muffled music came from. He knocked once and twice but the music was too loud, he tried a little more violently and he was met with a barely audible, “What?”

“Dinner is ready.” Replied Otabek, only a unit louder than his normal speaking voice. The music was turned off and so he considered his job done. Back at the table, he helped to set the cutlery and bringing the dishes, even if he was a guest he still wanted to help.

They were all sitting down when a sunglasses wearing Yuri came downstairs, followed closely by a siamese cat.

“Seems that Potya is already hungry.” Mentioned Victor starting with his own food.

“Being fed, sleeping and taking baths, what a blessed life has that cat.” Remarked Yuuri lightheartedly.

They were all eating silently, exhausted from the training, but Victor was quick to see that everything was rolling too peacefully. “You’re yet to be introduced isn’t it?” He left his spoon to one side to signal between Yuri and Otabek. “Otabek, this is my son Yurio…”

“I’ve told you my name is not Yurio.”

“Then introduce yourself.” Even if Yuri couldn’t see Victor’s innocent smile he knew perfectly well when his parent set a trap.

“Yuri Plisetsky, nice to meet you.”

“Otabek Altin, the pleasure is mine.”

They all continued with their food, but it was obvious that Yuri had something in mind. When would he say it? No clue.

“Hmm, I don’t think this guy will last long.” Yuri said, immediately resolving the mystery.

“Maybe not as much as the Japanese peanut did.”

“You mean Minami?” Inquired Yuuri.

“He was here for a long time.” Added Victor simply.

“It wasn’t like he set a record or anything, but he stayed for eight months! The boy had guts.”

“Are you saying that because of your attitude?”

“Yeah, I admit I’m not a sugar pie right now but my 15 year old self was scary.” Yuri shivered with a frown. “I still get the creeps remembering those times.”

“You mean you’ve changed? Ouch!” Victor let out a shriek while Yuuri’s side moved suspiciously with a jerk reaction. Though Victor was fast to return the kick under the table.

The two oldest people in the table were fighting as if they were five year olds and their son only continued to eat his soup. It was all a mess, but a good one, he didn’t know how but maybe this was their usual family life and Otabek couldn’t help but feel left out.

It was a relief that the rest of the night had been less of a wreck, he didn’t mind the commotion but he didn’t know how to act during it. He just nodded and answered questions when asked, thankfully the hosts didn’t mind.

The pair offered to take him to his hotel but Otabek felt that it would’ve been abusing of their generosity. He took a nearby bus and looked for the route on his phone, he wasn’t too far into the suburbs, but it would take some time to reach his destination. He looked out the window and saw a traffic light. He knew the stop and go signals but he wasn’t aware that they were color coded. From red to yellow, to green. Just as the colors he had discovered that day.

Only then he realized he completely forgot about the whole soulmate dilemma, he wanted to facepalm so hard, but that wouldn’t give him an answer. He would worry about that tomorrow, for now, he only wanted to get a good night’s sleep.


	2. Outside of the Box

Three days had passed and everything was at ease; Otabek practiced in the rink beside Yuri’s but barely interacted with him, he took the advice from his coaches to heart, even he could feel the developing potential for improvement.

Everything was safe and sound in the rink and it had also been in other aspects of Otabek’s life, save for the mail he received in the morning. His motorcycle had arrived at the airport and he had to go for it within 72 hours or it would be stored, and that was an unnecessary nuisance he'd like to avoid.

However, his day off was still too far away, so he was torn between asking permission to miss practice for a day or having to put up with more time-consuming paperwork to get his baby out of an airport warehouse. He didn't want to seem irresponsible, he had just started training here after all. Still, at least he had to try, Victor and Yuuri had been nothing but supportive so he felt confident enough to voice his dilemma.

He went to talk to them during lunchtime and presented his case. They were comprehensive and agreed to let Otabek leave early tomorrow, if that was everything he needed.

With that said the next day was a little chaotic, Otabek trying to make the most out of his short time on the ice. Then, close to noon, almost running to the hotel to take all the required documents and then take public transportation to the airport and pray to anything that can be prayed to that there wasn’t a long waiting line.

Never in his life had he been more grateful to have a decent conversational level of Russian until that moment, he didn’t want to imagine how worse everything would’ve been if he hadn’t been able to communicate. Yet, none of that mattered now, the moment he saw a recognizable wooden box approach the exit he could almost feel the tears forming in his eyes.

He was the happiest man on earth when he received his package and checked that everything was in order. He only wanted to take her out of the crate and ride her into the sunset. It was an impossible dream though, he needed to reconnect the battery, pump the tires, fill the gas deposit, and all of that only to start. For more security he had even removed the handlebar and other delicate parts, a complete rebuild had to be done to make it useful again. Soon… he promised to his heart.

An over-expensive airport moving truck trip later, he arrived at the hotel and left his bike on the parking lot, he wouldn’t be able to work there, he had to find a mechanic who would let him use their workshop to get all set up and reassemble his baby.

Next morning his back was killing him, but he was able to carry on with his practice sufficiently. Fortunately that day Yuuri had given him another type of exercise, mostly jump practice. Otabek could actually consider his jumps as one of his strengths, if not his greatest strength.

“Good, now let’s take five.” Yuuri announced a well-deserved pause. They stepped out of the rink to go fill their bottles.

It seemed an appropriate moment to start the conversation about his inquiry. “Mr. Katsuki,” Said Otabek as Yuuri was drinking water. “I wondered if you knew a mechanic nearby, somewhere where I could leave my motorcycle.”

“The one you picked up yesterday? Right now I don’t remember the name or address of any, but of course, I’ve seen some. You need someone to repair your bike?”

“Not really, I only want somewhere to keep it there. I’m more comfortable doing any maintenance myself.”

“Sure, let me check if I have the contact info of any of them, and I’ll tell you later.”

“Thanks.”

The next couple of hours went flying by and suddenly the practice was over. Otabek went to shower and felt the hot water like a blessing over his aching muscles, he stayed a bit more than he usually did to relax and clear his head. He could take a bath back at the hotel but doing this immediately after getting off the ice was better.

He dried himself with a green towel and stepped outside, in the distance he could hear the piano song that had introduced him to Yuri.

Otabek had learned in the half week he had been there that this wasn’t one of Yuri’s competitive programs, at least not from the current season. Still, he practiced it almost religiously at least once every day.

He was heading outside when his coaches stopped him to talk. “Otabek, come here for a moment,” Invited Yuuri. “I talked with Victor about the thing with your bike and how you need somewhere to work with it.”

“Yes, and we agreed on offering you our garage. It’s spacious and we have free space.” Continued Victor. “Besides, we can be sure that you will not end up straining yourself.”

That was a surprise, even if they were kind he wouldn’t have thought it would be an option. He could refuse in the name of intruding, but if he thought about it this way he wouldn’t have to lose time moving around.

“Thank you, I appreciate your amiability; and if you let me, I’d be glad to accept your offer.”

They had also given him the number of a mechanical workshop near their home if he needed tools or something. Otabek called the number and asked for someone to help him move the box into the Katsuki-Nikiforov household.

He didn’t entertain the matter again until his day off; where he woke up as early as always but not heading to Love & Life, but to the place where he would reunite with his true love. Who needed a soulmate when he had his machine? The thought made him giggle on the bus.

With all of the things going on lately he had forgotten that he had had his own destined meeting a week ago. It returned to his mind, Yuuri and Yuri. Otabek remembered what Mila had told him, that she had seen the colors but after bonding with Sara she _knew_.

He had talked to Katsuki, Otabek respected him greatly and yes he felt affection towards him but he could see him at most as a big brother. With Plisetsky on the other hand, he yet had to talk to him properly. They had introduced themselves and had one or two short conversations, but he wanted to see if Yuri could be his special one. When the time came, of course.

Since he was younger he ought to have a connection with someone like the one his parents had, like the one he saw Victor and Yuuri shared, but now that he could see colors he realized that he wasn’t desperate to find it. It would come eventually, or maybe not, but he wouldn’t force anything. Especially if his soulmate didn’t like him back, he’d accept their decision and move on.

He arrived at the house and headed to the garage, and he entered with the remote they had lent him before. It was fairly early and he didn’t want to disturb anyone on their only rest day, so he tried to be as silent as possible as he headed to the box. He saw a crowbar and a hammer and he took the to the crate, he positioned the pry on one off the edges and hammered it inside. He repeated the process with the rest of the top and oh was he thankful that it was glued and not nailed.

After a good ten minutes of work, he was finally able to open it! The top of course, there was still a long way to go but just catching a glimpse of the paint from above gave him a new wave of energy.

Industrial glue sure was a pain but he was able to open the crate nevertheless. He peeled off the bubble wrap and met once again his good old friend. He wasn’t a guy who was overly expressive when it came to his emotions but at that moment he couldn’t stop himself from caressing the dashboard.

He was taking out the other objects that were inside the crate: a pair of helmets, his riding boots, and some other heavy boxes when the door leading to the house opened.

“Otabek! Nice to see you this early, would you want to join us for breakfast?” Said Victor, he was leaning against the door with sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, but he looked energize."

“Sure, I’ll just take the trash out.” Was his response. He did so and once inside the house he headed to the kitchen.

“I’m preparing eggs, how would you like yours?” Asked Victor as he was serving a pair of sunny side up eggs on a plate.

“Scrambled are fine.”

“Good, can you take these to Yurio?” Otabek nodded and held the plate. He returned to the table to find Yuri with the cat on his lap and drinking a glass of juice.

“I brought your eggs.” Yuri extended his arms and Otabek delivered the dish. He placed it in front of him and gave the cat a piece of fried white before shooing it off his lap.

Victor came back with his and Otabek’s breakfast on his hands. It was silent, not strictly uncomfortable but it was very different from the last time he sat at that table. The oldest was the first one to retire, as he wanted to go wake up his husband with a breakfast in bed.

The two young skaters were left alone, Otabek could continue with the silence and leave, but something prompted him to speak.

“I’m repairing my motorcycle on the garage.” He started as an ice-break.

“I heard that.” Replied Yuri unamused.

“Would you like to stop by?”

“Why would I?”

You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, was Otabek’s first reaction. He didn’t say it though, avoiding a fight was the best way to maintain a healthy environment. “When I finish I can take you out for a ride.”

That made Yuri snort. “Seriously, are you even looking at me?”

“I am.”

“That makes one of us.”

“I’m still looking at you, I’ve been doing so for a week.” He wasn’t expecting that kind of reply from Yuri. Rejection? Wasn’t a surprise, but he didn’t understand the reasoning behind the argument. “From what I’ve seen I can say that you’re one of the best skaters out there. I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve, but watchinging your skills I’m sure you’ll make it.”

Silence followed, Yuri didn’t react to the other man’s words. He waited in suspense for a couple of seconds before picking up his plate and leaving to the kitchen. Otabek sighed and returned to the garage.

Hours passed without noticing until Yuuri came with an invitation to lunch, Otabek refused to say that he was still full from breakfast. Still more time flew and they knocked once more with the announce of dinner. 

“Thanks, but I think I’ll wrap this up to leave soon.”

“Otabek, no overexerting yourself.” That had been the agreement. Otabek shrugged and complied.

Dinner went smoothly, completely different from last time. Otabek had been the center of attention, with Victor and Yuuri asking him about his skating career, since when had he started and such. Yuri wasn’t very talkative as per usual.

Another week went by and Otabek found himself again at his coaches’ house. He wasn’t as early as his last day off, the practice and choreography of his new short program leaving him more tired.

He was late for breakfast, yet, still on time for joining the family for lunch. He finished and then in the garage set up all of his equipment to continue his work. He had decided to give a complete check-up to his bike now that he had the opportunity.

It was quite relaxing, he took off his jacket, turned on his music and started with his previously removed carburetor’s cleaning. He was taking every piece apart and inspecting everything when he heard the door open. He didn’t turn, and no one called out to him. Strange, Victor and Yuuri always announced their presence.

He turned around slowly, trying to not make a sound and caught the shape of an ear under blond hair.

“Are you coming in?” Said Otabek in a neutral voice. Yuri was startled and moved with the tiniest jump.

He left the pieces he’d been working on on the table and moved towards the door, Yuri didn’t move, it had been clear enough that he had been caught.

“Are you coming in, or not?”

Yuri turned his head to him and relaxed his frown. “I'll follow you.”

Otabek moved through a clear path until he reached the stool where he had been. Yuri seated on it and Otabek leaned on a wall. The music was still blasting but neither of them cared. He took a piece of cloth and a brass and started to wipe the dust off.

He finished with that one and took another bass, then another, and then continued with the rest of the piece. Somewhere he became so absorbed in the task that he started muttering the lyrics to the songs. He only realized this when he shot a glance at Yuri, who was bobbing his head.

“You have a nice taste.” Said, Yuri, as he started tapping his fingers to the rhythm.

“That better be truth or I’ll never be hired again.” Returned Otabek, more lighthearted than expected.

“For what? Professional mixtaper?” A slight giggle escaped Yuri, but he wouldn’t get his way with this.

“ I guess you could call a disc jockey like that.”

“You’re a DJ? Cool. I think there’s a nursing home nearby if you need somewhere to put up a gig.”

“Sure, I bet all the old ladies will acknowledge that my mixes are on fire.” That actually made Yuri laugh, and Otabek couldn’t help but smile. “Check this out, I have the perfect song for you.” He left his stuff on the table and cleaned his hands, three steps later he was next to his phone playing one of his favorite songs.

Yuri had a face that told that he didn’t know if it was serious or not, so he just kept a mostly smug face. The song started with the heavy guitar strum and soon followed with the characteristic scream.

“ _WELCOME TO THE MADNESS!!”_

As the song progressed he could see the smirk on Yuri’s face grow. His headbang becoming more and more intense. Otabek didn’t want to stay out of the fun so he followed the lyrics in a slightly louder high pitched voice. This seemed to entertain Yuri further, and during the solo, he performed a refined and ‘completely accurate’ guitar solo. Otabek also continued to contribute with his voice, trying and failing to sing the lead and back voices at the same time.

They were having a blast but the song finally came to an end. Somewhere during Yuri’s intense headbanging session, his shades were sent flying. He didn’t care, neither did, Yuri had his face lighted up and a grin on his face. “Play it again.” He demanded, and Otabek gladly carried out the request.

The mood was certainly lighter after, so much that they were able to engage in small chatter. “Mechanic, DJ, skater. Be who you wanna be barbie girl? Yes, you’re like a barbie, Otabek Barbie-n.”

“I’m definitely not a doctor nor an astronaut, so barbie wins this time as the ‘Jack of all Trades”. They were talking about the silliest subjects but it was enjoyable.

“Now tell me, are you seriously good at everything, or the occasion was too convenient for you to display your dime a dozen talents?”

“I will, once you tell me when you got so good at skating.”

“Wrong!” Blurted Yuri as if he was the boss of a videogame announcing you lost. “You haven’t unlocked my tragic backstory, try again later.”

Otabek sighed somewhat amused but understanding, maybe that subject was more delicate for Yuri than for him. “I like music, I love my bike and skating is my career. I just try to do my best when it comes to the things that matter to me.” Yuri smiled sympathetically, he had seen him smile more times in an hour than in a two whole weeks.

They talked some more, mostly about their likes or skating. Otabek told him how he hadn’t been able to return to his home rink since he was eighteen, Yuri told him about the weird people who used to come train with his parents. Some were ok, others were fine, except for J.J., he was an asshole.

“He offered to open the door for me! The door of my own house!” Yuri had been explicit when expressing his aversion towards the Canadian. “He wanted to escort me everywhere, he was insufferable. I guess he was trying to be attentive but I am only invalid not useless nor a damn kid.” He grunted completely annoyed. “Not even Victor and Katsudon treated me like that since… Actually, they’ve never treated me as that moron did. I just wonder if that’s his normal self or if he tried extra hard to be a pain in the ass.”

“I’ve competed against him, believe me, he’s been like that since his junior competitions. He claims to be the king of the ice.” The disgust in Yuri’s face was almost dripping. “He’s a good guy though, he does charity work offseason and all, but his attitude is, difficult to approach, to say the least.”

Yuri almost screamed in frustration. “Charities? Do you want to talk about his charities? That jackass suggested that I should join one! He even wanted to donate to me!” His volume was getting out of hand but Otabek had to admit, that had been a dick move.

“A condescending good heart with no tact whatsoever… How long did it take you to drive him away?”

“Two weeks, it should’ve been over from the first day but the guy was persistent.” Otabek didn’t want to imagine it, he had felt what Yuri’s antipathy felt like during his first day of practice. And that was probably only the snowflake at the tip of the iceberg that is Yuri’s animosity, and J.J. was the Titanic.

“He’s been more, controlled, so to say, since he found his soulmate.” Even if she is almost the same as him. “They’re too similar for their own good, though, somehow that levels the both of them.”

Yuri breathed out heavily. “Soulmates, you say? I guess the whole point of it is to have someone make you less shitty, or at least stand all of your shittiness.”

“A simple yet accurate depiction.” Otabek agreed, throughout his life he had thought that soulmates had an unbreakable connection that transcended life itself. Now that he had one he didn't know what to think, was he correct? Was there more to it? He still needed to find those answers by himself.

“Have you found yours?” Or maybe not entirely by himself. Yuri was facing towards his general direction, and Otabek had something stir inside his chest. He still had his doubts but there was a high chance that the man in front of him was his destined partner.

He didn't know how to act upon that knowledge. “Wrong.” Said Otabek as a faint reference to a previous conversation. Yuri understood and they changed subjects.

Otabek was able to somewhat advance the work on his bike. He had been considerably slower than usually but he was able to talk with Yuri all along.

Later Yuuri came to call Otabek for dinner, he opened the door and saw Yuri laughing beside the Kazakh and surprised washed over his face. He was able to keep a neutral tone in his voice so Yuri didn't notice his dad's shock.

Otabek told him that he'd follow in a minute, he just needed to clean up. Yuri stayed with him and began to talk about his cat, he loved cats. They were sly and fiery, silent beasts waiting to snap on their prey. “Just like you,” said Otabek.

“You think so?” Yuri’s words sounded indifferent, but a faint blush colored his face.

On the way out Yuri stretched his arm out and Otabek held it by the elbow. He walked lead carefully towards the door to avoid Yuri any bump. Inside the house, they held hands a second longer before heading to the dinner table.

The food was already served, Yuuri and Victor waiting silently for their arrival. Yuri knew there were unspoken words in the air but didn't react to it. Otabek on the other side was actively ignoring Victor’s face, who had the widest mischievous grin he had seen in awhile.

Otabek wondered if what he had seen of Yuri had been a fluke, or if it had been a change in their relationship. Every time he arrived at the ice rink he would see Yuri already busy, and the next morning was no exception. He was heading to the lockers when the blond’s voice called him.

“Otabek!” He said, interrupting his current exercise.

“Morning Yuri, what’s up?”

“The sky?” Yuri chuckled at how horrible his own joke was. “Show me what you can do.”

That was a sudden surprise, was he talking about ice skating? “Right now?”

“Of course not, go warm up, loosen your muscles.” His body language was radiating hype. “You’re good, and even if I hate him J.J. is the best right now. I just want to know how tough the competition is.”

“Really? I can only speak of what I know, and I can tell you it is hard.” Blood, sweat and tears, everyone at each other’s throats, but Yuri was also a professional, he had to be familiar with all of that.

“Perfect.” Yuri responded, displaying a smug grin.

An hour later Otabek returned, he had gone through last season’s short program a couple of times to get used to it. He stepped inside Yuri’s rink and stretched his back.

“Can you skate it with no music?”

“Sure.”

He moved to the center and stood in his initial position.  He played the music in his mind a let his body flow. It wasn’t difficult, but maybe he missed the tempo one or two times. Especially because despite himself, he was actively trying to make his footwork louder.

When he had the opportunity to shoot a glance at Yuri he saw how the other was completely focused on him. He was standing outside, aligned with the middle of the rink against its wall, leaning slightly towards the sound of skates on the ice. Otabek returned to think solely about his routine, he had to perform it as well as if he was in a competition.

He finished and stayed in his final position for a few moments before returning to the entrance of the rink. “How was it?” He said, panting from the effort.

“Your short program right? It was good.” Yuri returned to the ice with him. “I have to say your jumps were actually pretty great. I mean, solid landing, I don’t know how many spins you did but you stayed in the air a fair amount of time.”

“Thanks.” Yuri complementing his skill was more satisfactory than any thoughtless praising. He knew what he was talking about because he was also an athlete, the best of his category at least.

“I'd like to go out there and personally kick J.J.’s ass, and also your ass. You're cooler than him, but you're still a rival.”

“Is that a challenge?” They both smiled and dropped the subject. “And you're polishing your free skating program?”

“You mean the one I'm always practicing? It's not mine, it was Katsudon’s. I only skate it when I want to clear my head.”

“Oh, then what's your seasonal program?”

“I don't have one, I'm not competing actually. I haven't done so since a couple of years ago.”

“Really?” That was weird knowing Yuri’s competitive spirit, but it made sense since there were no more trophies since he had ended his junior stage. “Is there a reason why?”

“Everyone in the special division are losers, I can't even display my full potential without feeling like I'm cheating.” At least it was good that he was confident about his abilities.

“Then, come to my senior division, you're skilled enough to qualify.”

“I plan to, someday, but I don't plan to just ‘qualify’, I'll be here practicing until I'm sure that I'll win.”

“Until when would that be?” It sounded like a solid plan, if only too idealistic.

“I don't know yet, but it'll be soon. My parents support me, but we're still arguing over which routine would be the best for my debut.”

A voice interrupted from outside of the rink. “Eros vs Agape, sexual love against unconditional love.” Said Victor, in a dramatic voice.

“Nice timing dad.”

“I've been here for a while actually.” Victor stepped on the ice and skated closer to them.

“Whatever, I should be doing Eros, I'm not a kid anymore and I know it will let me win.”

“Because Yuuri won gold with it years ago?”

“It won’t be the same, it will only be a rendition of it.”

“You don’t need to be afraid of Agape.”

“As if.” Said Yuri, moving away to start skating around the rink. “It’s just that I’m sickened by Agape’s image; innocent, pleading, defenseless.”

Victor put the back of his hand on his forehead and sighed deeply, it had been a tiring argument for all parts. “Yuri!” Called Victor with a playful voice, Otabek was weirded out since he hadn’t heard him call his son other than a nickname. It was not normal, Yuri confirmed his suspicions as he slowed the speed of his skating.

“I know that you want to skate Eros and I understand why you do, I mean it. However…” No more playing around, Victor meant business. “You’re being unreasonable, you don’t want to skate that because you think people are going to take pity on you but you’re wrong.”

Yuri finally stopped but didn’t turn, only continued listening to the eldest member of his family. “You’re doing this, competing in a category you haven’t before. You’re breaking the mold, setting your own standards, you’re confident and aggressive and everybody knows it.” Victor approached his son, who was only a few strides away. “I know you may not understand the use of it, but showing a vulnerable side is the best course of action.”

If Yuri was seriously as fixed on victory as he seemed he couldn’t ignore the advice of the living legend, of the greatest skater of all time. “Besides,” Continued the man. “I’m making use of my coach privilege here, I’ll choreograph Agape for you or nothing.”

Yuri didn’t answer, perhaps his inner thoughts had been externalized. Anyway, it was clear that if he wanted to advance he would need to listen to others. “Enough of that, let’s return to practice.” Even if Victor hadn’t dismissed him specifically, Otabek took it as a cue to leave to his own rink.

Otabek had Yuuri coaching him this time, and everything went smoothly. His new short program was almost complete and he had been able to practice it with music. Only the backbone, all the spins, jumps, and polishing would come with practice. He was happy, there was concrete evidence that he had also been working and improving.

“So, now that your short program is mostly done, do you have an idea about what you would like for your free skating?” Told him Yuuri during their break, catching Otabek unprepared, he hadn’t been thinking about the long program at all. “Just the music would be fine. Do you have something or would you like a suggestion?”

“I’ll think about it overnight.” He would come up with something eventually.

Otabek finished practice and headed for the showers. Still, before leaving the rink area he wanted to peek on Yuri’s side. He stopped for a moment and looked at him, doing steps he did not recognize. Perhaps that was the choreography for Agape. Even if he had been complaining and fighting against it, now that he had to work on it, he was pushing without hesitation. His seriousness displayed the same unwavering professionalism that had him practicing for hours, daily, since years ago. Otabek was glad everything turned out well.

When he was in the shower he washed up pretty fast, the sweat was easy to take off and he was naturally quick and efficient in minimizing the time and effort of mundane tasks. Once he finished he raised the temperature and lowered the pressure, so as there was light water running through his body,

The heat and steam relaxed his body and cleared his mind. He was too comfortable to move so he started thinking about his season programs. What did he want to convey this time? His short program focused on going back and honoring his roots, not precisely his home but a culture. Should he continue with that theme for the free skating? He wasn’t so sure, after all, he had been told he had to “think out of the box”; change what he would normally do and be more creative.

"Otabek, is that you?"Asked Yuri from a distance, probably from the entrance to the locker room.

"Yes, I’m taking a shower." The sudden intermission made Otabek forget his thoughts. "Did you finish early?"

“Actually not, you’re the one who’s been here for a while I guess.” His voice was getting closer, until another shower was open. “Have you been taking a shower since you exited the rink?”

“More or less. it’s only that feeling the hot running water on my skin feels fantastic.”

“Is that so?” He remained in a thoughtful silence before talking again. “Well, back in Japan, my family owns a hot spring, Maybe you can come over some time if you want.”

“Really? Thanks, that would be nice.” That, that had also been nice. It didn’t even have to do with going to the hot springs, Yuri had shared something important with him. For Yuri his family was important, it was a safe space for him, and being willing to open that for him was unexpectedly pleasing.

He turned off the shower, feeling that he didn’t need the warmth of the water any longer. He changed and waited for Yuri, talking to him from the distance that was separating them. The precious invitation had opened a conversation about their families, especially from Yuri’s Japanese family. His grandfather was silent but cool, his aunt was always wrecking his game and that was awesome, and his grandmother made the best pork cutlet bowl ever. He would say she made the best food ever, but his grandpa was the exception, he made the best pirozhki in the whole wide world.

“From the Nikiforov side?”

“No, from the Plisetsky side.”

“True, you’re Yuri Plisetsky after all.”

“Actually Nikiforov is my legal last name, and that is only because Katsudon strongly refused to grant Victor more dad joke material with two ‘Yuuri Katsuki’s.” He explained in an annoyed voice. “Oh, and my grandpa is the only Plisetsky relative I know, and the only I want to know sincerely. Still, I use his last name for competitions…”

“You don’t want to be compared to your parents.” It was understandable, being a second generation professional athlete to the greatest living representatives of the sport not only put plenty of expectations on him. He would’ve also had media’s attention over him since the moment he tried skates on.

They exited the showers and slowly walked towards the reception. A comfortable silence set while Otabek wondered about which were Yuri’s boundaries regarding personal matters. He seemed able to talk about whatever Otabek asked him, save for specific situations, but he was always vocal when expressing his discomfort. He didn’t want to push his limits, but he wasn’t sure still until which point they existed.

Otabek moved an inch closer to him, careful to not suddenly bump into him or block his cane. He waved his hand closer to the other’s body and just barely made his fingers touch. Yuri’s hand reacted, not positively nor negatively and neither did he make a comment. It hadn’t been for long so maybe he confused it with an accidental touch.

Once again he brought his hand closer, and faintly brushed his knuckles against the back of Yuri’s hand. He waited for two seconds and slowly removed it, keeping his hand close but not pressuring. Yuri tilted his hand and touched Otabek’s hand with the tip of his finger. He stretched his finger and slightly intertwined it with the other. Yuri turned his hand and placed it on top of Otabek’s, both of them tightened the grip and suddenly they were holding each other.

The silence continued, but the warmth of their contact was more fulfilling than any word they could say at the moment. They arrived at the entrance and faced each other, Otabek saw Yuri smile, far from a smug smirk or an overjoyed grin, it was a beautiful smile that made his heart feel tight inside his chest.

They began to talk once more, this time in a lower voice, Otabek asked about his pets and Yuri snorted but engaged in the conversation.

An unperceived amount of time passed and two other people showed at their spot. “Otabek, you stayed. Do you want to go check your bike?” One of them asked, probably Victor, but Otabek wasn’t paying attention.

The both of them got closer and contemplated the scene, with evaluating eyes, but all the same stayed silent. After a pause Otabek replied, never taking his eyes off Yuri. “No, thank you, I’m heading to the hotel.”

On the way back, Otabek looked outside of the window, feeling in a daze. The thought occurred to him that crossing half of the city two times a day was unpractical, to say the least. He should rent an apartment somewhere close to the rink, or to Yuri’s house.

Yuri… he watched the city pass by, the trees, the cars, the buildings. He shifted his eyes upwards and looked to the sky, it had been some time since sunset had passed but he could remember it clearly from days before. It was red, and yellow, and purple, and pink, and he could see it because of someone. He was sure that person had been Yuri, but at that point, he didn’t care anymore, he would’ve chosen him either way.

He thought about Yuri, about him as a person, not about what he felt for him. Otabek respected and admired him since the beginning, and every passing day had made him discovered more reasons to see how great he really was. Thanks to that appreciation he had tried to keep a friendly relationship, but as time went by, and they talked and they stayed close to each other he had grown to realize a connection that was developing between them.

Otabek had a clear goal, he wanted to be the best and win every competition, that was his main objective. He also wanted to face against Yuri on equal grounds and unravel his real power, because he had the suspicion that Yuri would be the toughest rival. He was obstinate and aggressive, and also he was sweet and kind. All of those facets were him and he wasn’t afraid to show them and that’s what made Yuri so genuine and sincere. And Otabek… he suddenly realized what his program was going to be about.


End file.
